“It’s embarrassing to admit now, but I wasn’t the one who ended things. I didn’t understand the negative impact of the power dynamic until a few years after we went our separate ways. My debut was a best seller. It was a historical romance that people seemed to love, so I wrote another one. And when Jenn went to sell it to publishers, no one would bite.
I guess there was a stigma with male romance authors, or I can’t remember the bullshit reason she gave me. After a few more months of being unable to sell my novel, she dropped me as a client and broke up with me on the same day. I was devastated.”
Henry's jaw tightens as he recalls his past. I can see the pain dancing inside his dim pupils, which are usually full of warmth and comfort.
“I didn’t know what to do with myself for a while. I stopped writing altogether. It felt like I’d poured everythinginto that book, and to have it rejected by everyone was the kind of failure I wasn’t prepared for. Eventually, I landed on my feet and decided to pursue academia, but it was a long road.”
My heart twitches at the vulnerability in his voice. I want to reach across the table and take his hand, but the sinking feeling in my gut stops me.
That night, he said she also worked in the publishing industry. God, I’m so stupid. And yet, I still reach for more. “How did she come back into your life?”
He leans back, his gaze distant. “She never really stopped being in my life because of her ties to the publishing industry. I still ran into her occasionally and tried to be cordial. About a year ago, she called me out of nowhere and asked if I was still writing. And then, she told me about this opportunity to ghostwrite for one of her clients. I told myself it was a business arrangement, nothing more.”
I frown. “And you said yes.”
“I did,” he admits, a note of regret coloring his voice. “A part of me thought it was a way to get back into writing without putting myself out there completely. It was safe. And maybe—maybe I wanted to prove to myself that I could still do it. That part of my life wasn’t over quite yet.”
“The part about being an author or being with her?” I ask. The words flow seamlessly out of my mouth without a second thought.
Henry flinches, his eyes snapping back to mine. I struck a nerve. For a moment, I wish I could take the words back, but they hang in the air between us, heavy and solid.
“Being an author,” he says firmly. “Emma, it was never about wanting to be with her again. That chapter is closed. I promise.”
I study his face, searching for cracks in his conviction, but I see onlymy Henry. The man I’ve been melting for since themoment I met him. Still, something is holding me back. “Then why do you still let her have this kind of power over you?”
He exhales, his shoulders sagging. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice low and raw. “When we met, I was a kid with a dream that she made a reality. She made me believe I needed her—that I wouldn’t succeed without her. And for years, I bought into it. Even after our romantic relationship ended, that tether to her never broke. She still found ways to remind me that I owed her everything.”
The protective instinct I feel for him flares hot in my chest. “That’s not true,” I say firmly. “You don’t owe her anything, Henry. Your talent is yours. Your success is yours.”
He lifts his eyes to mine and gives me a small, broken smile. “Thank you,Pajarito.I know that in my head, but my heart has a hard time catching up. She made me feel like I was nothing without her for the longest time—like she was the only one who could see my worth. It took me a long time to quiet that voice in the back of my head. When she called me last year, she flipped a switch, and I was right back where I started.”
My heart aches for him. I want to spread my arms wide and tell him everything is okay, but I must also protect myself. I needed to think about everything and what this meant for us moving forward.
“I think I need some air.”
Henry’s expression falters, and I can see the worry flash in his eyes. “Emma,” he says, almost pleading.
I shake my head, needing to create space between us before letting my emotions spiral. “I need a minute to think.”
He doesn’t try to stop me, which makes the ache in my chest physically hurt. Instead, he nods and looks down at his hands.
I walk toward the front door, stepping outside without my shoes. The wooden porch feels ice cold against my feet, and Irelish the feeling. It’s not until the cold evening greets me with open arms that I realize how hot my entire body is.
I lean against the railing, peering down the steps to the door that leads to safety. I could leave now and never look back. Try to erase him from my mind. But my feet are cemented in place. I didn’t want to go.
Deep breaths of fresh air pump through my lungs, and questions assault my mind. What future was there for Henry and me when this woman still had power over him? He’s still tethered to her, even if he doesn’t realize it. Maybe not romantically. But emotionally and mentally—her influence is still there.
I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. The Henry I know is kind, thoughtful, and intelligent. Everything I didn’t know I wanted in a partner. But can I love someone who hasn’t fully untangled himself from his past?
Footsteps vibrate the small porch behind me, and I turn to find Henry standing a few feet away with my shoes in his hands. “I thought you might need these,” he says before dropping them in front of me and shoving his hands in his pockets.
The moonlight bounces off his tan skin, tempting me to reach out and run my hands across the firm angle of his jawline.
“I know what I said in there is a lot to take in, but I need to finish my explanation before you decide to walk away.”
“Okay,” I answer timidly. I wasn’t sure how I found the strength to run away from this man that first night we met because I found it impossible here and now.
“I was stuck in this endless cycle of not thinking I was good enough. When I took the writing job, I thought it would be a good stepping stone, but every time I tried to write, my mind went blank. I was suffocating under the weight of my expectations—and hers.” His voice softens, his eyes flickering with vulnerability. “So, I decided I needed to get out of thecity. Immerse myself in the setting of the novel. That’s part of the reason I ended up here.”
